


In a Land of Myth

by thesunsethour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Merlin AU, Slow Burn, hey kids its rebel against your bigoted parents time lets go, technically is also a royal au, this is a bbc merlin au in the loosest possible sense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsethour/pseuds/thesunsethour
Summary: When Remus, a young warlock, is sent to the Kingdom of Camelot to be an apprentice to the Court Physician, he didn't count on accidently calling the Prince, Sirius Black, an idiot.But when he does, it sets into motion a series of events that will change their lives, and their destinies, forever...*Or, a Merlin AU
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	In a Land of Myth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a few quick heads up:
> 
> \- I am so sorry for any mistakes in this, I try to reread everything but sometimes typos creep in!  
> \- Some lines of dialogue are taken from BBC's Merlin, but most everything else is mine  
> \- I do not support JK Rowling, nor do I support her horrific transphobic views. If you can, please donate to The Trevor Project, a wonderful organisation which aims to help support LGBTQ+ youths. You can donate here: https://give.thetrevorproject.org/give/63307/#!/donation/checkout?c_src=EOY20&c_src2=headerdonatebutton
> 
> \- Happy reading!

It was the soft, quiet glow of the rising sun painting his oaken desk amber that alerted Remus to the fact that morning had finally broken in earnest. He cracked his ink-stained knuckles, which elicited a disapproving hum from Madam Pomfrey across the room, and began to tidy away the various books and manuscripts that he had been pouring over for the past few hours.

Madam Pomfrey was always busy during the day, going from home-to-home tending to Camelot’s ill, and so their joint research on various herbs and remedies was confined to the, in Remus’ opinion, far too early morning. However, as January made way to February, the sun rose even before the candles that adorned their work surfaces were extinguished, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to begin work earlier and earlier with each passing day.

“Don’t forget to bring that cream to Mr. Evans today, Remus,” Madam Pomfrey reminded him, bustling around the room, as if in a hurry, despite the fact that she had never been anything but perfectly punctual.

“I won’t,” he said, handing her the vial of ground nettles that she seemed to be looking for.

“Good, good,” she said. “I shouldn’t be that long, but you know how people can be. If you’re going anywhere today don’t be too late home. Stew for dinner!”

With that proclamation she swept from their small, shared home, remembering to close the door softly lest the jars of elixirs and blends topple over from the makeshift shelves that Remus had fashioned upon his arrival a month prior. Jars of every shape and size occupied the shelves which hung on the wall and seemed to slope over their front door before combining with a large bookshelf that spanned the entirety of the far wall and leaned left so that everything on it tilted at an angle. Each jar seemed to have a different concoction inside of it; some of them were brightly coloured, others glowed in the dark, and all were homemade by Madam Pomfrey, who, as the Court Physician, was in need of a constant supply of medicine.

Remus loved the cramped, often cluttered nature of their little home. It was not unusual to find books piled under tables, on top of chairs, and balanced precariously on window ledges. Ink stained every available writing surface, and the kitchen, more often than not, smelt of whatever various blends and mixtures that Madam Pomfrey was experimenting with in any particular week. Long vines grew from plants potted outside, and they entered into the house through a small crack in the bottom right-hand corner of the kitchen window. From there the vines twisted around the shelves of jars, the lopsided bookcases, the cracked ceiling beams, and the oaken doors.

Looking at the small home from the outside, it would appear as a normal, if slightly eccentric, abode. On the rare occasions that Madam Pomfrey’s patients came to her instead of vice versa, they would not immediately notice the unnatural way in which the shelves bend over the front door, and how, despite this, none of the jars seem to fall off. They wouldn’t notice that the bookcase seemed to contain far more books than it should, or that the vine still grows strong even without direct sunlight.

Remus packed up the blue cream that he was to deliver to Mr. Evans and put it in his pocket. It was a larger-than-average container of cream, because both Mr. Evans and his wife suffered from joint pain.

With a flash of golden eyes, Remus enlarged his pocket ever so slightly to allow the package to fit snugly.

For you see, Remus was a warlock, and what was the use of having powers such as his if it didn’t make life a little bit easier?

*

Remus walked briskly through the narrow and winding streets of Camelot, a small smile playing at his lips as he realised that he no longer had to consciously think about which direction to take. The first few weeks after his move from the countryside were spent in near constant geographical confusion; the numerous backstreets and alleyways creating a maze within the town that Remus would get utterly lost in on a daily basis. It was not all bad, however. It was through this confusion that he met Lily.

Two days after his arrival in Camelot, Madam Pomfrey had sent him on his first task; to deliver Mr. Evans’ pain relief cream. Remus, filled with overconfidence and eager to explore more of the city, declined her offer of accompaniment, and set out on his own. He found himself constantly distracted by the smells emanating from local bakeries or houses, the sounds of children’s laughter as they ducked under arches and clambered atop walls, and the sheer scale of the castle that loomed atop the nearby hill.

It was only after an hour of wandering aimlessly around the city that Remus not only remembered the package that he was meant to deliver, but also realised that he didn’t have the faintest idea where he was. Every street looked at once both familiar and utterly alien, and Madam Pomfrey’s instructions that the Evans’ house was two alleys over and one street to the left of their home did little for him now.

“Evans,” Remus said aloud, as if that would help him locate the house.

“Yes?”

Remus turned around so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash and was greeted with the sight of a girl about his age with a basket of washing perched on her hip, and loose red hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders.

“You’re not Mr. Evans,” he said matter-of-factly, before wincing as he realised how stupid that sentence had been.

“No, I’m not,” the girl laughed, switching the laundry basket from one hip to the other to free her right hand. “But I am his daughter. Lily Evans, nice to meet you.”

Remus took the hand that was offered and shook it, exhaling in relief as he did so.

“Thank the Heavens,” he said, grinning now as well. “I thought I’d be lost in the streets of Camelot forever. I’m Remus Lupin, I believe Madam Pomfrey told your father to be expecting me?”

Lily’s eyes lit up, and she nodded an affirmative.

“You’re Pomfrey’s new apprentice, aren’t you? It’ll be nice for her to have some company; she’s been so good for my father. Have you been in Camelot long, then?”

“This is quite literally only my second day. Is it always so busy?”

“I’m afraid so. Isn’t it brilliant?”

They formed a fast friendship, and ever since, Remus would deliver Mr. Evans’ cream to Lily instead of straight to the man himself, so that they could spend their mornings together before Lily’s shift started at the castle.

“It’s honestly quite boring up there,” Lily complained to him one morning as they strolled through the city. “Especially since that promotion. At least before when I was working with the other girls in the pantry, I could chat to them. It’s all much quieter now.”

“I reckon a few of those girls would kill for the money you make as Head of Junior Staff,” Remus teased, emphasising her job title as he stuck an elbow cheekily into her ribs.

“Don’t even get me started on my pay! They think because I’m only 18 and dirty blooded they can pay me less than the other department heads. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I swear, the only reason they don’t fire me is because I’m too damn good at my job.”

“Dirty blooded?” 

“Don’t get me started on that either. Something about the royals having pure blood and everyone who lives down here somehow doesn’t. Right bunch of arrogant fuckers, they are. But working there pays the bills, I suppose.”

Shaking his head to bring himself back to reality, Remus refocused on his current walk; one that was made slightly more precarious due to the fine layer of ice that covered the ground beneath his feet. Remus could see every breath that he took in the cold air, and he wrapped his thin jacket around himself tighter in an effort to preserve what little body heat he had. Madam Pomfrey would skin him alive if he came back from the day’s tasks with a chill or, heaven forbid, a cough. The whole point of sending Remus into the city was the easier access to medication due to his sickly nature.

Well, that and the small matter of him being a warlock.

His parents spent many years trying to conceal his powers to the best of their abilities, but there were only so many hiding spots in a town where everybody knows everybody else. It was far easier to get lost within the swathes of people in Camelot and blend so closely into the background that it was as if he had never existed in the first place. Sometimes he felt guilty for his friendship with Lily; he could remember clear as day the warnings his parents had given him. To stay in the shadows, to live quietly, to always be that little bit more careful than everyone else. But she was sweet, and kind, and never asked about the many scars that adorned his face. He decided very quickly to allow himself this indulgence.

“Remus! Remus, over here!”

Lily’s voice carried loud and clear through the crisp morning air, and he jogged the rest of the way to greet her. She was sitting on a large wooden fence, her family’s laundry basket having evidently been used as a stool to help her clamber up to the top railing. In her hand was a small loaf of bread, which she was already dividing in half to offer some to Remus. He eagerly accepted, having forgotten to have any breakfast before he left home.

“This isn’t your usual spot,” Remus commented lightly, munching into the warm bread, and leaning backwards against the fence. “We normally meet by the stream.”

“I know,” Lily said quickly, eyes shifting every which way, as if searching for someone. “But variety is the spice of life, right?”

Remus nodded absently, more focused on the bread in his hand than the odd behaviour of his friend. If anything were seriously wrong, Lily would confide in him.

Suddenly, Remus heard a great bellowing laugh coming from the small field that the fence enclosed, and he turned around to see half a dozen knights rough housing with each other.

“Oh, great,” Remus grumbled, rolling his eyes. He had vague memories of knights occasionally patrolling his village as a child, and he remembered them as he saw them now; tall, prideful, and incredibly irritating.

He rolled his eyes again when one of the knights began to approach them. The knight looked to be about their age, maybe slightly older. Or maybe it just appeared that way because of the ornate clothes he was wearing; deep blood red, with gold trimmings. He had a mop of messy black hair on top of his head, which he ran a hand through quickly as he walked toward them, grinning all the while.

“Should we leave?” Remus asked Lily, not particularly wanting to be dragged into a conversation with the other man.

“No, it’s alright,” replied Lily, who had, for reasons Remus couldn’t fathom, blushed bright red. Maybe it was just the winter chill, Remus rationalised. He suspected that the tip of his nose was equally rosy.

“Miss Evans,” the knight said, when he was still a few yards away from them. “To what do I owe this pleasure? You look as radiant as ever, might I add. Is that a new gown I spy? Simply gorgeous. Perfectly stunning. Absolutely-”

“Oh, do shut up Potter,” Lily snapped, but the blush hadn’t left her face. She turned to Remus, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the knight, and spoke as if he wasn’t there.

“Remus, this is James Potter, loudest and most annoying of all the kingdom’s knights. He regularly invades the peace and quiet of my working day to prance around like a fool.”

Remus decided against mentioning that only last week she had been complaining about how much she hated the solitude of her new promotion. Turning to face him fully, he offered his hand to shake, and the knight asked him to call him James.

“Remus Lupin,” he offered up quickly. “You look a little young to be a knight.”

A laugh burst from James’ mouth, and left a misty cloud in the cold air.

“Can’t have all the knights being weathered soldiers! You need a little youth and vitality, don’t you think? Also,” he turned to Lily, winking, “everyone needs a little eye candy, too.”

“You’re absolutely insufferable!” Lily said, mouth twisted in a wonky manner in what Remus knew was an effort not to laugh. A smile crept onto Remus’ face; it was nice to see Lily so happy, and rather funny to watch her pretend to be so unamused.

“So, Remus Lupin,” James announced, grabbing Remus’ attention once again. He had a loud, commanding voice, but it wasn’t cruel or belittling, as was the manner of other knights that Remus had encountered throughout his life. “What brings you out and about on a morning as horribly cold as this?”

“Delivering a package for Lily’s father. What about you?”

“What about me?” James repeated, slightly incredulous. “Training, of course. We all have to keep fighting fit, especially nowadays.”

James’ upbeat demeanour faded slightly toward the end of his sentence, and Remus wondered what threat Camelot faced that he didn’t know about. He craned his head to the right slightly to gauge Lily’s reaction to the words, but she seemed not to have heard either of them. Instead, she was staring off into the distance, a frown pulling on her lips.

“What is it?” Remus asked her, turning away from James to get a better look at the field.

“Your best mate,” she said irritably, addressing her answer to James rather than Remus.

“What? What do you mea- Oh, _shit!_ ”

James sprinted away, cursing all the while, and Remus could finally get an unobstructed view of what was happening.

It appeared that a scuffle had broken out amongst some of the other knights, and it looked, from Remus’ perspective at least, that it was about to get nasty.

“Bloody knights,” Lily sighed. “All fun and games, usually, and then one of them goes and acts like a right old idiot. Not surprised he started it.”

Remus didn’t bother asking who ‘he’ was, because Lily began climbing down the fence, dusting sawdust off the ends of her gown. She spared another look in the direction of the fight before shaking her head and facing Remus.

“I’m going to be dreadfully late for work if I don’t head now. Do you have that cream?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, careful not to reach too deeply in case he revealed just how large his extension charm was, Remus produced the neatly wrapped package.

“You’re a star,” Lily said, grabbing the cream and reaching up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Careful, now,” Remus teased. “Wouldn’t want James to look over and get the wrong impression.”

If it were possible, Lily’s face turned a darker shade of red, almost matching her hair at this stage.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed, turning on her heel and marching away, but grinning all the while.

Remus couldn’t help but smile, too. It had been so long since he had experienced the sort of friendship he had with Lily. One filled with teasing jokes and easy laughter. He knew now why Lily had chosen this new meeting place for their morning chat, and it had everything to do with the (rather dashing, Remus had to admit) knight that was currently trying to talk another knight down from a fight.

Just then, a clatter sounded from beside him, and Remus saw a sword sliding across a couple of frozen puddles to land mere feet away from where he was standing. He looked up, but none of the knights were nearby, and none were paying attention. 

Quickly, without even truly thinking about what he was doing, Remus had climbed over the fence so that he was now inside the knight’s training field. He knelt on the frost-covered grass to get a closer look at the sword. It was made of what Remus could only assume was fine material, and yet at the same time was obviously only a training sword. The blade was somewhat blunted, and the hilt was less ornate than traditional swords. Still, it was the first time in his life that Remus had seen such a weapon up close, and he stood up with it in his hand, testing the weight of it.

After a few seconds of swinging it around aimlessly, he decided that if, Heaven forbid, he would ever get into a fight, he would much rather rely on his magic than on a sword. It simply didn’t suit his body, which was rather lanky and covered with far too many scars already without a rogue sword accident adding additional ones.

“Hey!” 

Remus was shocked out of his musings by a high, rasping voice coming from his right, which belonged to a short, almost hunchbacked man who looked exceptionally annoyed at Remus.

“Hey, you!” he shouted again, pointing a long, crooked finger at him. “What are you doing with that sword?”

“I think some knight lost it in the fight,” Remus explained quickly, motioning to the centre of the field, where several knights were still arguing amongst each other. 

“I’m not stealing it or anything, honest! It slid over here on the ice, and I just-,”

“Just decided to take it for yourself, yes?” 

“No! Just wanted to have a look at it, really.”

“This sword belongs to Pri-,”

“KREACHER!”

A new voice had entered the fray, almost drowned out by the sound of the escalating fight still happening a few dozen yards away. It was another knight with dark, black hair, but this one’s hair was longer and sleeker, as opposed to James’ carefully constructed messiness.

As well as this, he possessed none of the casual friendliness that James radiated, instead carrying with him an aura of pure arrogance that reminded Remus of the knights he had seen before. His eyes were cold and grey, and looked no brighter even with the white snow on the ground reflecting off of them.

“Kreacher,” the knight continued. “Why is this man wielding _this_ sword?”

Kreacher, for that is what Remus assumed the man’s name was, bowed his head slightly when answering the knight, although his words were equally as venomous despite the fact that he was no longer talking to Remus.

“I don’t know. Stole it, I think, my lor-,”

“I did not!” Remus burst out, fist clenching around the sword in anger. “I just found it on the ground because some ass of a knight dropped it during their stupid fight!”

“That’s my sword,” the knight said slowly, eyes locking on Remus at last, having spent the conversation so far glowering at Kreacher.

“Oh, right. Are you the one who started the fight, then? Because I don’t think it’s a great look, to be honest. The kingdom’s protectors squabbling like children right in the view of everyone. And it’s a bit of a shit sword, to be fair.”

Remus didn’t know why those words were spilling out of his mouth, and he silently begged his brain to stop talking before he said something that might get him into trouble. But the long-haired knight in front of him just reminded him so much of all those he had seen while growing up, abusing their power, and scaring him half to death. They would patrol the outer villages, demanding that anyone with a connection to magic be given up to their custody, where they would be given a ‘fair trial’. Remus, even as a child, had known that no man, woman, or child had ever returned from those fair trials that they were promised.

“That’s the Prince’s very own training sword,” Kreacher said, a wicked grin appearing on his face, distorting his features until it looked like he was grimacing instead.

“Been in his family for generations.”

 _Well, shit,_ Remus thought.

“Listen I already called you an ass, I just didn’t realise you were a royal one,” he said, aware that it wasn’t an apology, but equally aware that he didn’t want to give this prince one. If this was the idiotic knight that Lily was complaining about, he felt no remorse in arguing with him.

“Fighting words?” the Prince asked, cocking an eyebrow, and letting a smug smile onto his face.

“Maybe,” Remus countered, not knowing where this newfound confidence was coming from.

The Prince barked out an incredulous laugh. “I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that.”

The Prince’s eyes lit up at that, and, not looking away from Remus’ eyes once, he addressed Kreacher.

“You, send the rest of the knights back inside, make sure Fletcher goes straight to the stocks. Tell James to get his arse over here.”

Kreacher scurried away quickly, muttering all the while. The Prince stepped closer to Remus, until they were less than a sword’s length apart.

Up close, Remus could see that the Prince couldn’t be much older than himself, if a few inches shorter. Although he wore the same clothes as James, his were of slightly better quality, and had green trimmings rather than James’ gold. Remus noticed, with a flash of annoyance, that the other man’s teeth were perfectly straight, and that when his lips curled up into an arrogant smirk, two dimples appeared on his cheeks. On anyone else they might look childlike, but on him they seemed to frame his mouth nicely.

“Who are you?” the Prince asked, looking Remus up and down.

“Remus. Remus Lupin. I’m working as an apprentice for Madam Pomfrey.”

“Alright, I don’t need your life story. I’m Sirius Black, as you probably know by now.”

“Why did you start a fight over there?” Remus asked, somehow emboldened by the way that the Prince was staring at him as if he was both the most interesting thing he had ever seen and yet at the same time nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of his boots. Arrogant bastards, Lily had called the Royal Family. Remus, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, wanted to know how true that assessment was.

“That silly little scuffle? That was hardly a fight,” Sirius drawled, each vowel elongated as if Remus would have trouble understanding basic words if they were not slowed down for him.

“Looked like a fight. Looked like you started it. Looks like you lost your sword.”

Remus lifted his right arm to wave the sword around slightly, and Sirius’ eyes tracked its movements.

“I didn’t lose my sword. Mundungus Fletcher came to training drunk from the tavern and managed to fling it halfway across the field. _I_ stepped in. You simply cannot show up to training in that state. It’s inappropriate.”

“What’s inappropriate?” a third voice asked, and Remus craned his neck over the Prince’s shoulder to see that James had returned.

“Fletcher’s behaviour today,” Sirius told him, and Remus couldn’t help but notice that his entire demeanour shifted when talking with James. The tension in his shoulders abated slightly, and his words became less clipped.

“I mean, yeah. But you shouldn’t have punched him, mate.”

“He flung my sword across the field!” Sirius whined, and it was definitely a whine. Remus couldn’t help but snort. Here was the Prince of Camelot, and he looked mere seconds away from stamping his foot on the ground.

Sirius swivelled back around to face him at lightning speed.

“James,” he said, addressing the other knight but facing Remus. “Give me your sword, please.”

“Sirius-,”

“Your _sword_ , James.”

Remus, suddenly regretting the surge of confidence from earlier in the conversation, and yet too involved now to back down, stepped back a couple of feet and raised Sirius’ sword defensively. He didn’t think the Prince would actually attack him, but his parents always said that it was better to be safe than to be sorry.

“You think you know what goes on in my knights’ training? Let’s see, then,” Sirius said, gripping James’ sword in one hand, swinging it in a perfect arc before switching to a double grip. “I warn you; I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

“Wow,” Remus said, even as his brain screamed at him to shut his mouth. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

This time, both Sirius and James huffed out laughs, although the Prince’s was much more incredulous, and James’ much more amused.

“You can’t address me like that,” Sirius said, and seemed to be torn between exasperation and disbelief.

“Sorry,” Remus looked down, a perfect picture of remorse. “How long have you been training to be a prat-,” 

Keeping his head down, he raised his eyes, staring right into the Prince’s clear grey ones, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“-my lord?”

Something sparked then in Sirius’ shadowed eyes; it was as if a veil of clouds had lifted. Without another warning, smile still glued onto his face, he took a mighty swing of his sword, and their battle commenced.

Really, Remus thought, it could hardly be called a battle. Sirius made every offensive move, striking his blade with perfect precision, and with the speed of someone who had been swinging swords for longer than he’d been walking. It was art, Remus thought, in the brief moments when he wasn’t scrambling to get his own sword up to counter Sirius’ attack. Every twist of Sirius’ wrist caused the blade to twist in kind, moving swiftly and purposefully through the air as if it was an extension of Sirius’ very body.

His footwork, too, was masterful. He was lighter on his feet than Remus had anticipated, and it made him an incredibly fast opponent. Soon, all Remus could see was the faded gold hilt of the sword glistening in the bright winter sun, and all he could hear was the sound of his and Sirius’ breathing. After a few minutes, their breaths seemed to sync up, until they were moving as one; every time Sirius exhaled, he moved forward, and every time Remus inhaled, he countered and stepped back. It was like a game. It was like a dance.

Remus knew, however, that with his poor health it was only a matter of time before he began wheezing, and he knew that something must be done, and quickly, to avoid total humiliation. 

He quickly began to move toward the centre of the field, where there was a large crate full of shields, axes, and maces. None of these remotely interested Remus, however. It was the crate he was focused on.

“Running away?” Sirius called from where he was quickly advancing on Remus; sauntering as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and certainly not as if he had just been involved in strenuous exercise. His face wasn’t even red.

“You wish,” Remus shot back, irritated at how out of breath he sounded. He turned away from the Prince and with a flash of his eyes, and a great kick against the wood, he managed to knock the crate over. Sirius was now so close to him that Remus could hear his breathing again, and with a second flash of his eyes he set his plan into motion.

Twisting suddenly, he aimed at Sirius’ shoulder with his sword, forcing the Prince to the side, where the crate promptly closed over on his foot. An action that, from Sirius’ perspective, looked like a rather embarrassing blunder, and what, from Remus’ perspective, was a resounding success.

It felt bloody magnificent, using his magic this way. Not in the context of a battle, because Remus wouldn’t consider himself a fighter, but in a way that can only be described as freeing.

It was instinctual, the way he eyes flashed gold, and the world did what he asked of it. Moving that crate with his powers was as natural to him as the swing of the sword was to Sirius. 

What Remus didn’t factor in, however, was that the crate was quite a temporary solution. While he stood there, chuffed to pieces over his accomplishment, Sirius had managed to get free from the crate, and knocked Remus to the ground.

Sirius pointed the tip of his sword to Remus’ throat, until he could feel the cold metal against his skin, warm from the exercise. The two of them simply remained there, both breathing rather heavily, looking at the other. After several seconds of this impromptu staring contest, Remus let his grip on his sword go loose, and raised his hands in surrender. 

“Get up,” Sirius commanded, and removed his weapon from Remus’ neck.

James was still leaning over on the fence across the field, but he gave Remus a big thumbs-up as Sirius helped him to his feet.

“Not bad,” the Prince said, and Remus was quite proud to see a sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead. “You’re an idiot, of course. But a brave one.”

Remus thought of asking why he was getting dubbed an idiot, but decided it was probably for calling the Prince of Camelot an ass and then accidently agreeing to a swordfight with him.

“There’s something about you, Remus,” Sirius said suddenly, after several seconds of silence. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Remus wanted to say that there was something about Sirius too, and that he was equally stumped about it. Maybe it was the light that entered into his eyes when Remus spoke back to him, maybe it was the startling rate at which he relaxed when James appeared. Maybe it was his hair, or his mouth, or his dimples.

“Probably the scars,” Remus said solemnly, gesturing to his face. “In case you didn’t notice.”

Sirius laughed again, this time without a trace of smugness. 

Remus decided he quite liked the sound of it.

*

“How _could_ you be so _foolish?_ ” 

Remus winced as Madam Pomfrey’s sharp words rang through their home. She was pacing the kitchen, slotting herbs and roots into this jar and that, ranting all the while.

“Magic is not something that can be abused for silly little games like the one you played today. Thank goodness it was only Prince Sirius. I wouldn’t have liked to see the look on Orion’s face if you tried something funny!”

“Nobody saw me use magic,” Remus mumbled, trying to resist the urge to ask why he should feel lucky that Sirius was there instead of his father. Surely all the Royal Family were united in their prejudices against magic?

“Somebody could have seen!” she insisted, swatting him upside the head with a towel. “And then where would we be, huh? You burning on a stake, me watching down below? What would I tell your parents?”

“I’ve been moving objects like that crate since before I could talk,” Remus said, willing her to understand. “If I can’t use magic, what have I got?”

“You could avoid getting into sword fights, for one,” Madam Pomfrey huffed.

Remus closed his eyes tight. She didn’t _understand_. Magic wasn’t something he used; it was something he _was_. But how on Earth could he explain that, without sounding like he was making up excuses for his foolish actions?

“If I can’t use magic, I’m a nobody. I’m a nobody, and I always will be. If I can’t use magic,” he said, his voice small and tight, “I might as well die.”

The noise from the other end of the room died down suddenly, and he heard Madam Pomfrey sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, head hanging low.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Remus,” she murmured, walking over to sit beside him and clean up the wound on his hand from where Sirius nicked him in the fight. “You say these things, sometimes, and I don’t know how to…”

“I know, Madam Pomfrey,” Remus whispered, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Poppy, dear,” she reminded him, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Remus opened his eyes, staring down at the dusty floor. “You don’t know why I was born like this, do you?”

“No,” she said, and her eyes looked as sad as her words.

“I’m not a monster, am I?” he asked, in a light voice, as if it was a joke. Except it very much wasn’t. He had spent years hiding who he was in his hometown, and he was set for an entire lifetime of the same in Camelot. It was a hard feeling to articulate; the knowledge that there was a part of you, a part that felt more natural than breathing, and yet everyone else thought it was wrong. Vile. Evil.

Dangerous.

“Don’t ever think that,” Poppy said forcefully, gripping Remus’ hand. “There is nothing wrong with you, Remus. Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t know how to explain that using magic as instinctually as he had done today had felt freeing in a way that he hadn’t felt in years, possibly his whole life. Combined with the dance he and Sirius were playing at, it was a feeling that he would never forget.

“Magic is part of me,” he settled on. “I guess, even after all this time, I’m still learning how to hide it.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded tiredly and squeezed his hand once more.

“I know, dear. Now get some rest. We’re both attending the King and Queen’s anniversary banquet tomorrow, remember? We need a full night’s sleep.”

“A _banquet?_ ” Remus asked, incredulous. “You never told me about a _banquet!_ ”

“Did I not? Silly me. Now, bed.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be attending a banquet in the castle. A banquet where Sirius would be. Remus couldn’t quite decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Right,” he said. “Bed it is.”

*

Sleep, however, seemed to elude him. 

No sooner would he feel himself drifting off than he would be jolted awake again, always hearing the same voice repeating a name, _his_ name, into his head.  
 _”Remus,”_ the voice whispered, and it sounded like a gust of wind against his ear. _”Come to me.”_

It wasn’t a voice he recognised, nor was it particularly comforting. It felt somewhat harsh, and yet at the same time, Remus found himself inexplicably drawn to it.  
Before he knew what came over him, Remus had scurried out of bed and grabbed the nearest pair of shoes he could find and his jacket from the back of the chair in his room. He opened the window slightly, wincing when a blast of cold air hit him square in the face. Praying that Madam Pomfrey stayed sound asleep, he clambered outside, and started walking towards the forest outside the city boundaries. He didn’t know how he knew to go to the forest, but he wasn’t going to question his instincts. They hadn’t failed him yet.

Every now and again he came across a knight on watch duties. He even recognised some from today. Guarding the main gates was the one that Sirius had punched, if the black eye he was sporting was any indication. Remus nearly laughed aloud when he realised that he didn’t even need magic to distract the man; he was leaning against the wall, fast asleep.

Sneaking out to the forest was easy going from there, and if it weren’t for the anxiety over the unknown voice Remus would even venture to admit that it was relaxing. Outside the city walls the air seemed easier to breathe, and stars seemed to shine twice as bright. There was one star, high in the night sky, that seemed to glow more powerfully, and more beautifully than any of the others. It helped to illuminate his journey through the winding dirt paths of the woodlands, until the canopy of trees blocked it out.

Just then, a low laugh sounded from his right, and Remus turned his head to see a man sitting on a wide tree stump, with branches from neighbouring trees having twisted and turned to create a backrest. He seemed as old as the ancient trees themselves, with a long, white beard that grazed the forest floor, and thin hands that looked like pale branches in the dim light of the forest.

“How small you are,” the man said, standing up from the stump and revealing an impressive height, “for such a great destiny.”

Remus knew he was probably thinner than was healthy, but it was not the first part of the man’s words that alarmed him.

“What destiny?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“What destiny?” the man repeated, chuckling. “Your gift, Remus.”

Once the man said his name, Remus knew that it was the same voice from his dreams, and that he was indeed in the right place.

“Do you know why I was born with magic?” he asked eagerly. Maybe this man would have answers for him. Maybe, _finally_ , someone could tell him what all this trouble in his life was for.

“I do,” the man answered, smiling, with a twinkle in his eye. “Sirius Black is the Once and Future King of Albion.”

That was not what he had expected.

“Alright,” he said, confused. “What – what does that have to do with me?”

The man flicked his hand upwards, causing the canopies of the forest to part, so that the star that Remus was staring at earlier shone down on them. Remus stared at it in amazement. He had never seen anyone else do magic before, and it took the man clearing his throat several times to redirect Remus’ attention back to the matter at hand.

“Sirius’ destiny is to unite the Land of Albion, and he faces many threats, from both friend and foe alike.”

Remus couldn’t help but notice that the man put more emphasis on friend than on foe and began to take several steps back. This was getting too serious for him; talks of uniting entire kingdoms.

“I don’t see what this has to do with me,” Remus repeated, attempting to step back further but found himself stopped by a winding tree branch digging into his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“Without you,” the man said, sitting back down on the trunk, “Sirius will never succeed. You must work together. These are dire times we are living in.”

“No,” Remus insisted, shaking his head. “You must have the wrong Sirius, ‘cause this ones an idiot.”

The man simply laughed, the twinkle in his eye shining extra bright. “No one can outrun their destiny,” he said, and although his words were kind and light, there was an undertone of hardness there, and Remus wondered just how difficult a situation Camelot was in. 

“You don’t believe me,” the man said.

“Not really.”

“You will,” he promised. “You will. Remember that not everything is always as it seems. Sometimes a cup contains not water.”

“What’s your name?” Remus asked, hoping that this at least would garner a sufficient answer.

“Albus Dumbledore.”

And then the man was gone.

*

“So, you massive idiot, let me get this straight-,”

“Lily-,”

“You not only picked up the sword-,”

“ _Lily_ -,”

“But also challenged the Prince to a duel?”

“He challenged me! Do I look like someone who goes around asking for fights? Don’t answer that, the scars don’t count.”

Lily heaved a great sigh, but smiled, nonetheless. “More to you than meets the eye, Lupin,” she teased.

Remus and Lily were currently hiding away in a curtained-off alcove somewhere in the castle’s east wing. When Madam Pomfrey had revealed that they were both to attend the banquet, she neglected to mention that only she would be doing the mingling, and that Remus was meant to simply observe and stay quiet. He succeeded in this, for a little while, before Lily lured him away with the promise of some leftover pie from the kitchen that they could have if they were discreet. Lily wasn’t due back in the Main Hall until the banquet was winding down, and Remus wanted any excuse not to be the hall with Sirius. Well, he mainly didn’t want to be in the hall because there was a rotten stench coming from one of the corners, but largely for the far more obvious factor that was his effort to avoid Sirius at all costs.

The Prince had looked just as haughty as he had in the field, all decked out in the finest of clothes and with an air of utter unapproachability about him. He wore robes of emerald green, the Royal Family’s signature colour, but Remus couldn’t help but notice that peeking out from his collar was a brilliant red undershirt.  
Initially, before Remus had fled the main hall to hide away and eat pies with Lily, he had been standing against the western wall, trying his level best to blend into a pair of deep blue curtains, when Sirius had come up to him.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he drawled, and Remus wondered if he knew how to speak without making every syllable twice as long as it needed to be.

“Oh, hello,” Remus had answered, matching the level of disinterest that Sirius was exuding. “Please don’t ask me to swing a sword again. I don’t think it’s quite for me.” 

“No, it’s really not,” Sirius said, and for half a moment it looked like his mouth was going to curve into a smile, but at the last minute he turned it into a cough. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m here with Madam Pomfrey. She wanted me to observe, whatever that means. I think she wants to gauge people’s reactions to her new headache medication that she’s been prescribing these past few months-,”

“Right, whatever,” Sirius said dismissively, waving his hand around in the air. “Try not to steal anything else while you’re at it.”

“I gave you your sword back, didn’t I?”

Sirius didn’t grace him with an answer this time, instead promptly marching away to the other side of the room. Remus glared at his retreating form, annoyed at his rudeness, but when he turned his head back to the east side of the room, he saw the Queen, Walburga, staring daggers at her son, and another unknown women scowling at Sirius and his younger brother from across the room.

There had obviously been some tension there, but Remus couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was over.

He was brought back to reality from his musings on earlier in the day by Lily’s hand on his shoulder, which she was using as a support to push herself to her feet.

“My entire left leg has gone numb from sitting like that for too long,” she complained, rubbing at her knee.

“Do you have to go back in?” Remus asked, desperately hoping that she would say no. He didn’t particularly want to wait out in the corridors alone for the rest of the night.

“Afraid so,” she said, with an exaggerated sigh. “Someone needs to organise the waiting staff to begin serving dessert. You should come back into the hall with me, sometimes the knights don’t finish their wine and we can steal some of the excess.”

“I don’t want to be in a room with _him_ again,” Remus grumbled, fully aware that he sounded like a petulant child.

“With Prince Sirius?” Lily laughed. “Why ever not? You can’t be annoyed he beat you yesterday. No offence, Remus, but you’re not a fighter.”

“Not that!” Remus insisted, standing up as well to follow Lily down the corridor. He couldn’t explain to her that the reason he didn’t want to see Sirius was because of extreme dread over some destiny that he wasn’t even sure that he believed in yet, combined with a fair bit of annoyance over Sirius’ attitude. 

“I mean,” Remus continued, “you said he was an idiot yesterday!”

“I call everyone an idiot,” Lily countered. “Sirius isn’t too bad. Don’t get me wrong, he’s arrogant and can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but compared to his family he’s a goddamn angel. Plus, Potter really vouches for him.”

“Ah yes,” Remus teased, glad for a change of subject. “I was wondering how far into this evening we could get before you brought up James.”

“Shut up.”

As they re-entered the hall, Lily ran off to organise the gaggle of waiters huddling by the far door, and so Remus resumed his post by the curtains. Even though the long dining table was all set up for food, the vast majority of the people in the room were standing around talking to each other. Remus couldn’t help but stare at them; some wore gold bangles, others diamond pearls. There was more wealth in these people’s jewellery than Remus would likely ever see in his life. As well as this, the large chandelier that looked down on them all shone brilliantly with candlelight, and Remus was entranced by the sheer magnificence of the place. Of course, he also thought it was horribly pretentious, but, at least for one evening, he allowed himself to indulge in his admiration for the castle’s brilliance.

Suddenly, a call came from the top of the room.

“A toast!” the King said loudly, voice filling the room without him having to shout. “A toast to my magnificent wife, and Queen. Today marks the twentieth anniversary of our engagement. Cheers!”

Remus had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. These people had parties celebrating their engagement anniversaries, their wedding anniversaries, the anniversary of when they first met. Maybe if they were normal people, Remus might think it romantic, but the fanfare of the banquet and the large number of political leaders from neighbouring lands attending meant that this was an event purely for business. If everyone else, however, was content in playing into this charade, he decided that he may as well do so, too.

Even the Prince toasted with his wine, before asking for a cup of water to wash it down. The servant that had shouted at Remus yesterday was tasked with getting it, and Remus followed Kreacher’s movements, as he walked over to where the stench that Remus had smelt earlier was emanating from. As Kreacher passed by him, holding the cup of water in both hands, Remus locked eyes with the scowling woman he had seen before, who was standing by the table where the jug of water had been placed. He watched as she discreetly slid something into her gown pocket, and promptly left the room, closing the large double doors after her.

Remus was immediately on edge. What had Dumbledore told him yesterday, just before he left the forest? Something about a cup of water not being as it seemed.  
Suddenly several things clicked into place. Dumbledore’s warning about enemies, even friends, trying to harm Sirius, combined with his cryptic caution about the cup of water. Without even stopping to think about what he was doing, Remus ran up behind Kreacher, and knocked the cup out of his hands.

The clatter that it made as it fell to the floor silenced the entire room. In his peripheral vision, he could see Lily looking at him in panic, while Madam Pomfrey rushed over to his side.

“What is the meaning of this?” the King asked, voice deathly quiet.

“This is my new apprentice, your Grace,” Madam Pomfrey answered quickly, clutching tightly onto Remus’ arm, hard enough to leave marks. “He’s new to Camelot, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Yes, I do,” Remus said, daring to look the King in the eye. “Do you smell that? It’s hemlock, and someone had put it in the Prince’s water.”

“Someone?” the King asked. “Who?”

“I don’t know, your Grace,” Remus answered honestly. “She had brown hair, and was wearing black robes, and left just a few minutes ago-,”

“Alecto Carrow!” the Queen shrieked. “Must be her, and her weak family! After we refused to promise Regulus to her.”

“Potter, Shacklebolt, Fenwick!” the King called. “Go! Gather as many men as you need and find the traitor!”

The knights scurried out of the room, and the King ordered that all the guests except Madam Pomfrey were to leave as well. The hall lost some of its grandeur without the hoards of people taking excitedly amongst one another. Another startling change was the demeanour of the Royal Family.

The younger son, who Remus deduced from the Queen’s earlier shrieking was named Regulus, seemed to grow even more sullen once the audience left, although there was not much vivaciousness to him beforehand. Sirius seemed to be in two minds as to how to react. It was clear that he was glad that there were no longer dozens of people to talk to, but he stiffened immediately when his mother placed a hand on his shoulder.

“To think,” the Queen started, her words slurring together slightly from the wine, “that someone would dare try to hurt our Sirius.”

Remus, who long ago had learnt to place trust in his instincts, disliked the Queen immensely. There was something false about her sweet words, and something truly menacing about the way her long, dark fingernails dug into Sirius’ shoulder.

“How did you know that it was poisoned?” the King asked, turning his attention once again to Remus.

“The smell is quite distinctive, and I was standing near it for much of the evening.”

“You’re apprenticing with the Court Physician?” he asked, gesturing to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded furiously. “And does that keep you busy?”

“Somewhat, your Grace,” Remus answered, startled by the level of attention the King was paying him. He knew it was an irrational thought, but he couldn’t help but worry that Orion would be able to _smell_ the magic on him. Visions of fire consuming his body, or a noose around his neck filled his mind’s eye, and Remus swayed slightly on his feet.

“Where are you from?” the King asked, a wry grin appearing on his face.

“Ealdor, your Grace. A small town just north of-,”

“I know where it is,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You haven’t a drop of noble blood in you, have you?”

Remus suddenly remembered all that Lily had said about the Royal Family and their obsession with blood purity.

“No, Sire,” he forced out, lowering his eyes to the floor.

“Perfect,” the Queen cackled, and Remus’ head shoot back up immediately to turn his gaze to her. “Perfect! We must reward you, young man. I think a place amongst the castle’s staff wouldn’t go amiss. Oh, yes, yes. I rather think you would make a splendid manservant to my eldest son.”

Sirius, who Remus had noticed had zoned out some five minutes ago, came back to reality with a violent start.

“What?” he asked, staring at his mother incredulously. The Queen turned to face him, claws still digging into his shoulder.

“You wax poetic about the rights of the less pure, but let’s see how long you fare with one in such close proximity. Oh, yes, he saved your life tonight, but even a mudblood can be right occasionally. This is, I think, an excellent idea. Soon enough you’ll realise your proper place in this castle.”

Remus’ head was spinning. He couldn’t believe the gall of the Queen, saying such vicious words right to his face. Although, he hadn’t much time to focus on that right now, because Madam Pomfrey was trying to reason with the Queen, saying that she needed Remus at home, but to no avail.

Before he even knew what was happening, the King and Queen had left the hall, taking Regulus with them, and Madam Pomfrey was tasked with waiting in the courtyard for the knights to return in case any of them came back with injuries that needed patching up.

It was just Remus and Sirius left in the hall, standing silently, staring at each other, two lone figures in a room far too big for them.

“I apologise for my mother’s words,” Sirius said, and Remus had never heard his voice sound like that before. It was softer, accented without being pretentious. “She, and my father, my whole family, really, have some… unpleasant beliefs.”

“Do you?” Remus asked, heart beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure Sirius could hear it.

“No,” Sirius insisted, taking a step toward Remus. “No, I don’t. And I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck with this job. I know it’s not ideal.”

Remus nearly began laughing hysterically. Sirius didn’t know the half of it. When his mother told him that hiding in plain sight in Camelot would be easier than hiding in his village, she didn’t mean for him to end up working in the castle, right under the King and Queen’s noses. Remus consoled himself slightly with the fact that Sirius didn’t seem to share his parents’ disdain for the common people, and yet there was still the residual anxiety over his magic. He would have to be twice as careful, on edge every minute of every day.

Really, this was probably inevitable, Remus rationalised. Dumbledore’s predictions had been right so far, why should he be wrong about his and Sirius’ destiny?

Just thinking about that made him feel nauseous, so he went for a different approach.

“Just warning you,” Remus said, voice still faint from shock, “that I’m going to be the worst manservant in the entire kingdom.”

“Worse than your sword fighting? Is that even possible?” Sirius asked, the tension in his shoulders lessening.

“You have no idea,” Remus said, and then burst out laughing.

Sirius joined in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Thank you for reading, please leave a kudos or a comment! I'm in university right now so I don't know how consistently I will be able to upload, but the next chapter should be up in early February!


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